by Fred Moleck
Anticipatory Grief
I first encountered the term anticipatory grief in a brochure circulated two weeks ago by one of the regional hospital groups.Its contents dealt with getting ready to deal with life after death (not your death, but someone else’s) with the grieving experience beginning even before the dying person dies. Those attending that person are in a mode of expectation or anticipation.
Other issues in anticipatory grief are depression and an extreme concern for the dying person, knowing full well that recovery will not occur.
The term is broadly used and broadly understood. In my world of ideals, anything that deals with the dying process and the care that surrounds the process connecting us with the passage to eternity is noble.
Death is a portal.
Another level of understanding grief and anticipatory grief is less than noble and even somewhat flip.
For example: When was the last time you said, “Good grief,” to an unwelcome surprise, such as receiving a notice that your 2007 IRS file is up for an audit?
For me, “Good grief” would be much too mild. Both you and I can think of more explosive exclamations other than “Good grief.”
The “good grief” that I have in mind is more like “Good grief, Charlie Brown!”
Another understanding of causing grief is being problematic, such as the prelate not being satisfied with the color of the worship booklet and halting its production for two weeks. He caused a lot of grief at the printers. That is causing grief, not anticipating it.
As for anticipatory grief, it has another shade of meaning in the church musician’s life.
Here are some examples.
You see in your schedule that you are to be present at the October parish council meeting, which will discuss budget cutbacks for next year. You anticipate some grief when you bring up the renovation of the music space.
When you see who the caller is in your telephone identification, and you know right away to anticipate some grief.
When you realize in the tenth rehearsal of Mozart’s “Ave Verum Corpus”that the tenors and basses will never get the G and B right on the text “esto nobis,” you already are anticipating grief.
When there seems to be some smoke coming out of the area where the organ blowers are housed, you are already anticipating grief.
When you see who the presider is for the 5:00 PM liturgy on Christmas Eve and know that his homily will be based on the genealogy of the family of Christ and how his family celebrated Christmas in the ghetto, and it will take him thirty minutes to develop the connection with his guitar close at hand, you are already anticipating grief.
You could add some, I’m sure.
Next week, I want to turn around “anticipatory grief” and do some speculation on “anticipatory joys.” If you have some, please e-mail what you have experienced.
Until then, may all your anticipations be happy ones.
You can reach Fred Moleck via email at fmoleck@comcast.net